Read Online After Hours by Jenny Oldfield - Free Book Online Page B

his story.
    â€˜You looking for the old Jack Tar?’ The man with the decent baritone voice jumped up from his bottom bunk and approachedthem. He was among the most sober and alert of the men, ready for a good mystery. ‘He jumped ship.’ He smiled, eyeing the three women in a lively way. ‘You should’ve seen him. He was punching the air and shadow-boxing like the devil. Then he stands up on the edge of the bedstead. Blimey, I thought he was a goner. He topples forward and crashes down, then he rolls over and makes for that door on his hands and knees. Gone. Man overboard.’ He winked at Sadie. ‘I don’t like these soul-snatchers and their jingle-jangle music no more than the next man. But I reckon I have to put up with it unless I want another wet night under the arches. That’s the way it is. But not that old bag of bones. I reckon he came to just enough to see where he’d landed up, and the idea of all that song and prayer at five in the morning was too much for him. So he hopped the wag. And who can blame him?’ He glanced from Sadie to Frances, then to Hettie, trying to make her rise to his bait.
    Sadie had to back off from the reek of the man’s breath, while Frances went to look through the far door leading into another dimly lit corridor. ‘You mean he went this way?’ she asked.
    The sober man, standing upright, with his hands casually in his trouser pockets, nodded.
    â€˜How long since?’ Hettie spoke sternly.
    â€˜Five minutes.’ The man’s cocky smile faded.
    â€˜Where does this lead?’ Frances asked Hettie. The three of them had made their way from the bleak dormitory on to the darkened landing.
    â€˜Down some back stairs to the refectory,’ Hettie reported. The cackle of catcalls and insults had begun again as the men’s insolent cheerleader recovered his nerve and set up his tune of ‘Honeysuckle’ once more.
    Sadie shut the door behind her. ‘Let’s be quick,’ she said. ‘Maybe we can catch him up.’ She darted down the stairs; it was vital to get hold of this old tramp before he could spread his wild story.
    But down in the refectory, an adjutant stood on a raised platform, praying for the batch of souls who’d just partaken of the skilly and hard rolls. Fifty or sixty men bowed their heads, more likelyin sleep than prayer, as the Army preacher began his speech of salvation: ‘Poor as you are, hungry and ragged as you are, be sure that you will feast in Paradise. No matter how you starve and suffer here, you will rest one day at God’s heavenly feet. Pray with us, dear brothers, that the path may not be long and weary, that we may feast on His Host and pray for His forgiveness . . .’
    Anxiously, Sadie, Frances and Hettie scanned the rows of bowed heads. At last Hettie had to admit that she recognized none of the captive audience. ‘No,’ she signalled, retreating from the hall.
    â€˜Where’s he got to?’ Sadie frowned. She looked all about.
    â€˜What’ll we do now?’ Frances was the one to think ahead. They must talk face to face with the man before they could frame a real plan of action.
    â€˜My bet is he won’t get far,’ Hettie told them. ‘He ain’t strong. I don’t see how his legs could carry him all the way up to the court, even if he could find his way at this time of night.’ They stood in the churchlike entrance, looking out at the pale faces pressed against the window; the men who’d arrived too late for shelter. ‘Leastways, he ain’t managed it up till now.’
    Sadie nodded in relief, but Frances shook her head impatiently. ‘We’re jumping way ahead of ourselves,’ she told them. ‘We’re supposing things before we know they’re true. How do we know for sure this is Annie’s old husband? He’s given Hettie a load of gibberish, he’s got a couple of